The Apple of Discord
by ameliajokermoriarty
Summary: Snow White AU Sherlock Holmes has found his life put in danger when King Jim Moriarty finds him to be a threat to all that he wants to gain. It becomes a battle of wit, and a struggle to see who really is the fairest of them all.
1. Chapter 1

Long ago, in a kingdom that has now long been forgotten, there was a man named Sherlock Holmes. He had curling ebony hair, and skin as pale as snow. He was very reserved, and nobody really knew much about him or where he had come from. He drew attention to himself everywhere he went. But little did he know that he had drawn the attention of the King.

Jim Moriarty was a cruel king, with a wit and tongue that could outmatch anyone. However, rumours had spead that the King would find an equal in Sherlock Holmes. That perhaps he could outsmart the King. However, Jim was not displeased. In fact, he was overjoyed! Finally somebody who could play the game. All he needed was to draw his attention. Shouldn't be too hard.

Sherlock spent his days observing the people in the kingdom. Most of them were dull in live in fear of the King. The people were simply blind or chose to ignore the fact that nearly every death in the kingdom was a result of planning done by the King. Investigations were fone on the bodies and of course the King was not found guilty because he was nt the one who had actually killed the people. He simply hired people to do it for him. Sherlock had decided that he was rather intrigued by the King and made the choice to take a stroll through the King's gardens. He lived in court and had the liberty to do so. He had expected that by living at court, he would have seen the King. After much investigation and inquiry, Sherlock soon discovered that nobody in court had ever seen the King. Of course Sherlock knew that there were the rare few who were lying, but he simply took their words and noted them. The fact that the King had never been seen before was odd to Sherlock. Rumours and whisperes told Sherlock that the had a brilliant, yet dangerous mind. If that was true, how would anyone know?

Sherlock walked and weaved his way through the gardens. His eyes studied and memorized ever detail of every flower and plant. He listened intently to the sounds around him. It seemed as though all was quiet, until Sherlock heard a faint laugh that anyone could have mistaken for the wind. Sherlock turned around slowly, looking up towards the balcony that led to a room inside of the castle. Sitting on the edge of the balcony was a man. He was short than Sherlock, that much was obvious and he had hair black as night. His eyes were one of the darkest shades of brown that Sherlock had seen, noticing that it was nearly impossible to distinguish where his pupils were. However, the distance between the two men might have played a factor in that. The man wore regal clothing and much jewelery. The man was smirking down at him,still laughing slightly.

"Didn't your mother teach you to bow to a King?" the man ashed, smirking widely.

"She did. However, that diesn't mean I listened to her." Sherlock responded.

"You should."

"If you expect me to bow to you, you will be waiting a long time."

"Peasants bow to their King."

"But how do I know that you are the King? How do I know for sure? The King has never made a public appearence in court. So how could I be expected to know who the King is? After all, I only just came here a short while ago."

The man laughed and reached over to a tree near him and plucked an apple off of it. He tossed the apple at Sherlock, who caught it easily in his hand. He studiedit and took a small bite out of it, keeping his eyes locked with the man's.

"Jim Moriarty. Formally, my name is King James Moriarty, but I much prefer to be called Jim. Hiii!" he said, cheerily.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock watched as Jim's eyes widened and he smiled, peering down even further over the edge of the balcony. Sherlock felt him eyeing his body and appearence.

"So you're the infamous Sherlock Holmes. I've heard somuch about you. I must say, I am not disappointed at all." Jim said, voice dropping to a deeper tone.

Sherlock took note of the man's voice and raised an eyebrow at him. It was odd for the King to act this way. According to most people, the King was cruel. Yet, he was being overly friendly to Sherlock.

"I wouldn't call myself infamous. Simply a curious man with a brilliant mind."

"A man who likes to use his mind to solve crimes." Jim grinned.

"It is a true shame that the wrong men are put to death." Sherlock laughed at the King.

Jim's gaze hardened as he looked down upon Sherlock. This man was something esle. Something extraordinary. Something beautiful.

"What do you mean by that, my dear? Surely all of those who commited the crimes were punished accordingly to my kingdom's laws."

"They were. However, the person who planned the crime was not. All the men are different, but the crimes are all the done the very same. Down to the last detail. Clearly this criminal is unorganized. Would you not agree, my liege?" Sherlock asked, taunting the King.

"I would not agree, darling. I do not believe that the criminal is unorganized. I believe that they simply want their work to be recognied." Jim smiled, however, Sherlock could tell that it was used to mask his distaste.

"Think what you will, Jim. You are the King. Who am I to tell a King what to think. Though you are right in saying that the criminal wanted reognition, it was disorganized of him to wish for recognition. It was foolish of him and was what allowed me to discover who this criminal is." Sherlock laughed.

"Oh? Do tell me who this monster is, Sherlock. I would love to make sure the he recieves proper punishment."

"I think both of us know who that monster is, Jim."

There was silence between the two men and small smiles of knowing graced their faces. Jim sat up and looked down once more at Sherlock. He laughed darkly, before he slipped back inside of his castle.

Once Jim was inside, his smile fell off his face. He walked over to the far wall inside of his chambers to stare upon a mirror. To anyone else, it would be so normal to look upon. They would simply see their reflection. However to Jim, this mirror meant and could show so much more.

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest one of all?" Jim asked.

Jim recited these words countless times, and each time he recieved an answer he liked. He hoped for the same answer this time. When he asked who was the fairest one of all, he was not just talking about beauty. He was talking about beauty, confidence, and intelligence. He was asking who was the best person on this entire planet. Smoke began to rise inside of the mirror and a face appeared from the smoke.

"I fear that my answer will not be to you liking, my King. For you are not the fairest of them all. Sherlock Holmes has taken your place. I know that you've heard rumour of his intelligence and genius, and how you have seen him display his confidence and beauty. He is truly the fairest one of all."

Jim nearly smashed the mirror upon hearing its answer. Jim was absoloutely furious. Though Sherlock was the most interesting human he had ever met during his entire existence, he couldn't let this man continue. He just couldn't. Sherlock Holmes needed to die.


	2. Chapter 2

When the King had disappeared, Sherlock decided that it was time for him to vanish as well. He was not idiotic and he knew that the King was most likely going to kill him. Or at least attempt to. He needed to get away from the Kingdom for now. He moved quickly into the woods that surrounded the Kingdom, slipping into the darkness of the trees. Even though Sherlock was not originally from this Kingdom, he had heard legends about these dark woods ever since childhood. Although he knew that more of the horror of the forest were not true, he made sure to be caustious.

Sherlock moved deeper within the forest, noticing how the trees all tangled together and blocked any sunlight from making its way into the forest. Sherlock could hardly see and he had to hold his hands out infront of him as he stumbled through the woods. As he was walking, he heard something that caused him to pause. The snap of a twig. Sherlock felt his heart rate accelerate and he began to move faster through the trees. If he could get in an area with some light, he would be able to take on his opponent easily. However, Sherlock was pulled back roughly and was crush against the person's chest, a knife pressed against his throat.

Sherlock held his body completely still, not wanting to accidently slit his own throat because he had attemted to struggle in vain. He listened intently to the sounds and actions of the person behind him. The blade was shaking in his attacker's hand and his breathing pattern indicated that he was panicked.

"Lestrade?" Sherlock asked, making sure that his deduction was correct.

"I am sorry, Sherlock." Lestrade responded, keeping the knife pressed against his throat.

"The King ordered for my death, did he not?" Sherlock asked,

"He told us that you were responsible for all the deaths in the Kingdom and Sherlock, we do not know what to believe. I am under oath, Sherlock. He ordered me to return only after I cut out your heart, as evidence that you are dead. But I can't, Sherlock." Lestrade admitted.

"Then do not do it. Do not kill me. Just let me go. Cut out the heart of a pig and deliever it to the him. It should give us both enough time to get away."

Sherlock felt the knife still pressed to his throat for a few more moments before Lestrade slowly moved the knife away. Sherlock took a step away from Lestrade, before turning to face him.

"Just get away, Sherlock. Do not come back." Lestrade said.

"I will come back, Lestrade, to ensure that the Mad King is brought to justice."

"Mad King? You've never met him. Nobody has."

"I met him for a total of five minutes. I thought we shared something special. I will see you soon, Lestrade. Hopefully."

"Godspeed, Sherlock."

Sherlock turned away from the Huntsmen, bidding him farewell, before continuing his trek through the forest. He seemed to have been walking for hours, when finally he saw a patch of light peeking out through the trees. Sherlock moved towards the light, and soon he found himself in a clearing. The light hurt his eyes and he had to allow his eyes to adjust before he could look around. The clearing was actually rather beautiful. The contrast of the dark trees with the bright green grass was rather alluring. Not to mention the flecks of colours that were spread out from the various flowers. In the centre of the clearing rested a tiny little cottage. It was simple looking and looked big enough to house two or three people at the maximum. Sherlock walked up to the front door, rapping against the wood with his knuckles. He waited patiently outise,until he heard the door open. It was a man who had answered the door. He had blonde hair that seemed to almost match the colour of sand. His eyes were a light shade of blue that seemed troubled.

"May I help you?" The man asked, looking confused.

"Yes you may. I am in need of a place to stay. You see, I have gotten myself into a rather troublesome situation with the King. Seems as though his it out to have me killed."

"Why should I let the enemy of the King into my home?"

Sherlock smirked and looked over the man stadning in the doorway. He was wearing simply clothing. Nothing elaborate that would be considered eye catching. However, the man held himself with pride and dignity. Most of his weight rested on one leg.

"You were a knight once, were you not?" Sherlock asked.

"How could you possibly know that?" the man asked, wearing a shocked expression.

"It's clear by the way you carry yourself. Proud and tall, as if you are try to assert your dominance over me. A typical attitude for a knight. However, you are no longer a knight, as is evident from your limp. Though that injury is completely in your mind. You were never injured in the leg. But you were injured. Am I correct?"

"That was...extraordinary." the man said, jaw dropping in astonishment.

"May I inquire after your name?" Sherlock questioned.

"John Watson." the man named John answered.

"Sherlock Holmes."


	3. Chapter 3

John stepped to the side and gestured for Sherlock to enter. He nodded his head in thanks and stepped inside the cottage. It was quaint on the inside, no where near what Sherlock was used to. He was used to the lavish interiors of castles, so he knew that it would take him some time to get used to the simplicity of the cottage. The man named John walked into what Sherlock could only assume to be the kitchen een though it was much smaller than what Sherlock was accustomed to. He filled a black pot with water and brought it over to the fire, trying to make it boil. Sherlock took a seat in front of the fire, finding that it was actually quite comfortable. He smiled as he sank into the seat opposite him.

"What did you do to make the King want to kill you?' John asked.

"I am not entirely sure. I talked to him briefly, and accused him of being behind all of the murders occuring in his kingdom. Not only that, but I also mocked his work and called it unorganized. I do not believe that he was very happy." Sherlock smirked.

"You spoke to the King? Even I have never spoken to the King?" John said, astonished.

"Most people have not. He knew of me, however. Seemed extremely interested in me, which I found rather odd."

"There are some who say that the King is a warlock." John said, looking into the fire.

"Witches and warlocks do not exist, John. Magic is simply science that people do not understand."

"Why would you test the King? Everyone knows how cruel he can be."

"I tested him because I could. Because I am not afraid of him like others seem to be. He has no power over me. We are both equal in our minds. That is all that matters."

"He has an army at his disposal, Sherlock." John stated.

"He will not use his army to kill me. I already now that. He would not have sent Lestrade if he had intended to kill me with an army." Sherlock said calmly.

"Lestrade?" John asked.

"He is a huntsmen, however he is also a part of the King's guard. The King ordered him to kill me and then cut out my heart as evidence that I was truly dead."

"The King has truly gone mad..."John mumbled.

"When was he ever sane?" Sherlock asked.

The water in the pot eventually boiled and John moved to grab the pot and brought it over into the kitchen. He brought out two cups out and poured the hot water into them. Sherlock watched as John put tea leaves in the cups and brought them over to Sherlock.

"It is just tea. I apologize if it is not as good as what you are used to." John apologized and placed the tea in Sherlock's hands.

"It is fine." Sherlock said, slowly drinking the tea.

"There is not much room here. There are three bedrooms, but mostof them are rather small. I live in the room upstairs and Mrs. Hudson lives in the next room."

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"She is a widow. Her husband was put to death af-"John was cut off.

"I know her story. I am the reason her husband was put to death."Sherlock smiled. "I was concerned when she vanished from the Kingdom. I am glad she found a home."

"I allowed her to stay here after her husband died. They had thrown her out of her home. I took her in. I could not bare the idea of leaving her alone to fend for herseld." John smiled.

"That was uncessarily kind of you."

"I do not believe that it was unnecessary. There is another bedroom on this floor, "John quickly changed the subject, "You can sleep there if you want."

"I thank you for your hospitality, John Watson. Most people would not take in an enemy of the King."

"The King is mad. Therefore his judgement is mad."

"Indeed."

A month had passed. Jim was pacing angrily around his chambers, glaring at the wooden chest that had been given to him by the huntsman. He had been so excited to finally have the hear of Sherlock Holmes. Yet when he asked the mirror against, the answer remained the same. Sherlock Holmes was still alive. He had debated killing the huntsman. In fact he would have taken from it such joy, but he had more pressing matters at hand. Besides, the huntsman might be of use to him sometime in the future As Jim was pacing around his room, he heard a passive knock on his door. He turned to face it and saw Lady Molly Hooper. A bright girl, despite her insecurities and rumoured to be quite infatuated with Sherlock Holmes. She stepped into the room slowly, head bowed down towards the ground as she curtsied.

"My King." she said, voice quiet.

"Lady Molly." Jim said, pursing his lips as he did so. "You seem rather well. Which is rather surprising considering the current situation."

"What situation, my Lord?" Molly asked.

"Sherlock Holmes was proclaimed dead, my darling. Rumour has it that you were quite infatuated with him."

"No, Sire!" she exclaimed. "I was not..."

"Hush. It is alright, my love." Jim whispered. "Just tell me where he is."

"He is dead, my Lord." Molly stated.

Jim sighed and walked over to Molly, running his hand over her hair. Molly's body was shaking in fear of the King and in fear for Sherlock's life.

"I will not hurt him, my Lady. I just need to know where he is. He will be fine." Jim lied, his voice sounding extra sweet and kind.  
"Do you swear it?" Molly asked, voice quiet.

"Of course."

"I had been travelling through the woods, just looking for some quiet when I came across a clearing. A little cottage rested there. It ias where John Watson lives. He was a member of the knights guard before his injury in battle had him dismissed. I noticed that he had been coming into the kingdom more often and I went to go and see him. I looked through the window and saw Sherlock. At first I did not believe it, but I knew that there was no other explination. I left quickly after that and I came back home. I did not want to tell anyone...to ensure his safety." Molly said, bowing her head in shame.

"You are a kind soul, Lady Molly. You are dismissed." Jim said, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

"My Liege." Molly whispered, blushing as she walked out of his chambers.

As soon as the door shut behind her, the smile fell off of Jim's face. Love sick Molly had given him everything he needed. He could finally kill Sherlock. Though talking to Molly had left a bitter taste in his mouth. She was foolish to believe that he would not hurt Sherlock. He was going to kill him! She should have known that! The woman would probably kill herself when she discovered that she was the reason Sherlock died. Jim could not help but to laugh at that thought. He heard another knock on his door and walked over to it, revealing Lady Irene Adler.

"What is it you want?" Jim asked, allowing the woman to come into his chambers.

"A little bird whispered in my ear that you killed Sherlock Holmes." she smirked, walking over to sit down on his bed, crossing her legs as she leaned back and looked Jim up and down.

"You have heard incorrectly, darling. Sherlock Holmes is still alive."

"Oh, good. He is so much fun to play with." Irene smiled, looking into her own thoughts.

"As far as I remember, you got sentimental and he rejected you." Jim laughed.

Irene pursed her lips her lips and clicked her teeth, obviously annoyed by Jim's comment. Her eyes scanned the room before they rested on Jim again, the smile returning to her lips.

" Sherlock Holmes is not a man who takes interest in the more...pleasurable things in life."

"Oh really?"Jim asked, moving closer to Irene. "He seemed to have taken quite a large interest in me. Now go. Get back to your work." Jim said, staring down at Irene.

Irene laughed and stood up, giving a short curtsie, before turning on her heel and moving to walk away. However, before she left the room, she turned to face him, a smile still playing on her lips.

"I suggest, my King, that if you want to capture the full attention of Sherlock Holmes, you're going to need to use a little bit of magic." Irene winked and left.


End file.
